


Say It With Flowers

by pitypartyof1



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Flowers, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, Luke trying to be sleuthy, Luke trying to keep it quiet but everyone knows anyway, M/M, Masturbation, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), References to Depression, Say it with flowers, herbs, self love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: Luke finds the first ones just as the Meet You There Tour is nearing a close. They’re lying peacefully on his pillow, small ribbon holding the stalks together, in his bunk and his brow wrinkles in confusion as he lifts it.AKA: The one where someone keeps leaving Luke flowers with a website dictating their meanings.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved the language of flowers. Here goes nothing. Any comments/kudos are appreciated!

Luke finds the first ones just as the Meet You There Tour is nearing a close. They’re lying peacefully on his pillow, small ribbon holding the stalks together, in his bunk and his brow wrinkles in confusion as he lifts it. Two singular flowers, baby pink buds on one, white on the other. They smell heavenly. He’s so distracted by his confusion and surprise that he doesn’t notice the small card at first. Thick, sturdy when he lifts it, it simply states ‘Zinnia, Cyclamen’ on the front, and the address to a webpage on the back – <https://www.almanac.com/content/flower-meanings-language-flowers#flower-meanings>. Luke types it into his phone’s browser and waits as it loads, the stems twisting between his fingers.   _Thoughts of absent friends_ and _Resignation and goodbye_ , he reads, glaring back at the flowers in his hand.

The blonde had hoped that maybe the webpage would give him some idea of where the stupid things had come from, but he’s more confused than ever. Stumbling up into the bunk, he settles down, still staring at the flowers. _Put the clues together_ , he tells himself forcefully. Whoever left it clearly had access to the bus – that’s a low number of people on its own. And… and _absent friends._ Clearly, this person is a – a friend to him? Or considers him a friend? Someone saying goodbye to him… Well, that part at least, is no mystery. The end of a tour means the parting of ways. They each take time to recover, regroup, find themselves again. Dwelling on it a moment, he wonders when his thoughts had decided to exclude all but his best friends. Why is he thinking only of Ashton, Calum, and Michael?

He’d been the first back to the bus after the show, and he finds himself drifting off quickly. It’s been a long stretch, and Luke’s absolutely exhausted both mentally and physically. The sounds of the other boys messing around in the main area wakes him a while later. Both flowers are crumpled beneath him where he’d accidentally rolled on top of them in his sleep and he feels a small twinge of regret at having not been more careful with them. He’s never gotten flowers before and as confused as he is, he’d have liked to have put them in some water or whatever it is you’re supposed to do to keep flowers alive.

Putting it aside and setting the wilted blooms among the sheets, he digs a book he’d been meaning to read from the bottom of his bag and slides the flowers between the pages. His mum had sent the book to him before they’d left, and Luke never did enjoy reading all that much. Sliding back out of the bunk, he makes to join the rest of the band. They’re likely drinking and playing video games, or something. He could use the distraction, to be honest.

“Aye!” Calum cheers as he catches sight of Luke, still rubbing tiredly at blue eyes. “There he is! Sleeping beauty’s awake, lads!”

Ashton and Michael raise a little cheer in the wake of Calum’s pronouncement, holding beers in the air and clinking together noisily.

“Oh, shut up,” Luke grumbles, snagging a bottle of beer for himself and settling down among them.

“What, wake up on the wrong side of the bunk, Lukey?”

“Shut up, Calum,” Luke reiterates, flicking the bassist’s ear, satisfied with the resulting yelp. A shit horror movie is up on the TV and Luke groans. It’s Calum and Ashton’s doing, he’s sure. He and Michael are more partial to action. There’s a lot of screaming and bloody attacks. He cringes, and sighs softly but otherwise sips his beer in silence.

The thing is, he has absolutely no intention of telling them about the flowers. At least not yet. Not when they’re all together and slightly tipsy. The only thing that’ll come out of that is a night spent with them mocking him endlessly. Tomorrow, maybe he’ll separate one of them and ask if they know anything, he decides as he opens another beer. Ashton’s probably the least likely to laugh, so that’s probably the route he’ll end up taking. For the moment, drowning the thought of the flowers with alcohol and bad movies sounds like a perfectly acceptable plan.

 

Luke sort of forgets about it by the next day. With the book tucked away, and the number of beers he’d had, it’s really no surprise it slips his mind. By now, they’ve ended the North American leg and are in Zurich with two shows to go. In fact, the only thing that brings back the memory is another plant tucked in with the supply of tea he’s been drinking to soothe his throat. He’s been feeling mildly ill lately, hoping it doesn’t turn into something worse. Glaring up at him from inside the box is something with tiny green and white leaves that looks kind of like the herbs Ashton grows in his kitchen. The cardstock is the same: printed with ‘Horehound’ on the front and the web address on the back. Apparently, Horehound means _health_.

Luke sighs. Only a few people know he drinks this particular tea almost every day. There are several that he has, but this is his favorite. Obviously, it’s got to be someone very close to him to have noticed, given that he usually drinks it at night and early in the mornings. He resolves once again to talk with Ashton about it.

In the end, Luke doesn’t manage to corner Ashton until a few days later – the tour’s done, and they’re boarding a very late flight back to LA. He’s quick to snag the seat next to the oldest boy before Michael or Calum can beat him to it. The drummer grins brightly at him as they get comfortable and prepare for takeoff.

They’re pretty quiet, Ashton with noise cancelling headphones on, until they reach cruising altitude. When most of the plane has settled in and the other passengers are distracted with movies, music, books, or otherwise preparing for sleep, he gives a slight tug to the drummer’s shirt sleeve. “Ash,” he whispers harshly despite knowing he won’t be heard through the headphones. The tugging seems to do the trick though.

Ashton turns his way, gaze questioning as he tugs the headphones down around his neck. “What’s up?” he asks quietly.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Luke’s eyes dart around. The people around them are paying them absolutely no mind, and yet, now that he’s actually going to talk about it, he’s feeling a little paranoid.

Ashton gives a little nod to show he’s listening and Luke sighs, scrubbing hands over his face tiredly. “Someone’s been leaving me flowers,” he admits in a rush. “I found some on my bunk pillow when we were in the US, and then I found some in my tea a couple days ago. They come with little cards. There’s the flower name on one side and a webpage on the back that tells me what it means.” Taking a deep breath, he plows on before Ashton can get a word in to waylay him. “I don’t know who’s doing it, but it has to be someone close to me right? To get to my bunk and to know which box of tea is my favorite.

Appearing to consider Luke’s words, Ashton hums softly and Luke waits anxiously. For some stupid reason, he’s afraid Ashton won’t believe him, or that he’ll say Luke must be imagining it or something. How he could imagine random plants showing up is a different issue entirely, and Luke knows he’s not imagining anything.

“What did they mean?”

The question is a bit of a surprise. Really, that’s the part that he wants to focus on? Luke kind of thought he’d pay a bit more attention to the bit about someone close to him sneaking around hiding plants amongst his things. “Uh,” he frowns, searching his memory, “the first ones were about goodbyes and thinking of old friends? The one from a couple days ago meant ‘health’,” he supplies after a moment.

“Interesting,” Ashton hums again. “I mean, it doesn’t sound as if it’s intended to be romantic, does it? But if not, I have to wonder why they’d bother with the theatrics instead of just saying it. It feels like some kind grand gesture.”

“I know!” Luke bursts and Ashton shushes him. “Sorry, sorry,” he rolls his eyes. He knows he needs to keep his voice down if he doesn’t want to draw attention. It’s just nice to have his suspicions shared, is all. “Do you know who it could be? I’ve been trying to think, but no one’s been acting any different. It just freaks me out ‘cause, like, they have to be _close_ , ya know? Like to know about my favorite tea? I have so many boxes, how’d they know which one I actually drink?”

“I think you’re right.” Ashton’s tone drops, sounding mildly worried. “I think it’s got to be someone close to you, someone you know well. I –” he pauses, biting his lip. “I don’t think there’s much you can do besides wait. See if it keeps happening, see if it escalates. It seems harmless…”

They share a troubled look for a long moment before Luke breaks, nodding slowly and looking away, across the cabin. “Yeah, okay.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're finally done with tour and back home. Luke's exhausted and still struggling, but he's not alone. Sometimes not being alone is enough.
> 
> AKA: A little bit of exhaustion, a little bit of angst, a little bit of bonding, and a little bit of sage advice.

Luke wakes up in his own bed sometime the next night. The flight from Madrid is somewhere around twelve hours, and he doesn’t stumble into his house until a little after 11:00 am the next day. Sleeping on planes has never been his strong suit, and he goes straight to bed, exhausted. The first thing he sees when his eyes flutter open about 7:30 pm is Petunia’s doleful gaze, staring at him from three inches away. It’s well past dinnertime and she’s not impressed. She does have manners though, and politely waited for him to wake up before slurping right over his mouth.

“Eyuuuuk! Petunia!” Luke rubs furiously at his mouth, wiping away the slobber. Normally, he loves her kisses, but right on the mouth always gets him, given how her kisses are usually rather wet.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he pulls her into his lap and rubs at her belly, kissing her head and apologizing for his terrible behavior. “Sorry, baby girl,” he murmurs. “You know I love your kisses, really. You just snuck up on daddy, that’s all. I bet you’re hungry, huh?” As soon as the word ‘hungry’ is out of his mouth, she’s doing an uncoordinated twist, rolling back to her feet and flopping off the bed to race in the direction of the kitchen, claws skittering on the hard floors. “I’ll take that as a yes,”

Luke grins to himself, rising from the bed much more slowly and following her at a sedate pace. It’s late and he’s alone, he reasons, there’s no need to put on any sort of pants. The windows at the back of the house overlook the city, and none of his neighbors will be peeking to catch a glimpse of his white ass legs in his boxer briefs anyway. They’re, as Michael (the hypocrite) always says, _blinding_.

Puttering around the pantry, he scoops out her food and places it down in her normal spot, patting her as she immediately begins to wolf down the kibble. His stomach gives a little growl of jealousy and he frowns. Flipping on the electric kettle, a hot cup of tea on his mind, he stares around the kitchen. They’ve been gone so long, he really doesn’t have any food – nothing that isn’t canned, anyway. Even as he continues to make faces at his fridge and cupboards, he knows he’s going to have to order out until he can get some groceries tomorrow. By the time the water’s ready though, the only solid decision he’s made is to add a splash of whiskey to his lemon tea.

Once Petunia’s finished, he ushers her outside to do her business, sipping his hot toddy as he waits. The whiskey burns going down, the honey he’d added supplements with a soothing coat to his throat though, and overall, he’s confident this was a good decision. With Petunia back inside, he settles on the sofa, switching on the television to a low volume and scrolling through food options on his phone. He’s not willing to leave his house to pick something up, so he decides to settle for some Thai delivery.

 

Hours later he's three episodes deep, starting up a show called Killing Eve and slurping some spicy, classic Pad Thai with Petunia next to him. Michael had mentioned the show a while back. Apparently, he and Crystal had enjoyed it, so Luke figures he’ll give it a shot. Particularly since he knows he won’t be getting any sleep tonight having slept through the entire day. This is the worst part, honestly, coming back from such a time change. When they’re gone just long enough to get used to it, and then they’re yanked away to go back home. It’s hard.

As the clock ticks around past 11pm, his phone trills loudly from somewhere in the mess of blankets and he digs it out best he can without uncovering his arms from the blankets. He’s too comfortable to extract them from the nest any more than necessary. Turns out Ashton’s the one disturbing his slump and he hits the speaker button, greeting the drummer. “Yo.”

“You awake,” the older boy asks, sounding tired over the line.

 _Obviously_ , Luke thinks, sighing softly and rolling his eyes. “Yeah, ‘m up. Not sleeping tonight, ya know? Gotta stay up so I can crash tomorrow night.”

Ashton’s exhale flows through the speaker. “Yeah, me too.” There’s quiet for a moment, the drummer trailing off to a heavy pause. “House feels too empty tonight. Can I come over?”

The words sound weighted with some emotion neither of them chooses to voice. It’s the same emotion that fueled the album. The one they’d discuss over long hours when they lived together for that short period. Luke hums softly. “Yeah, no worries, man. Door’s always open,” he mumbles. He knows what it’s like to battle the silence, to feel suffocated by your own thoughts in a space that’s just too much and yet constricting you all at once, when you don’t have a way to distract yourself.

For a while, after everything, that feeling was all he had. Pages and pages of words flowed from his fingers and it still wasn’t enough. He thought he was going to drown in all the memories and dreams, the anger and the hate and the desperation to escape it all. Ashton picked up a lot of the pieces because that’s what you do for the people you love. In a way, Luke suspects that it helped him pick up his own pieces at the same time. There’s a feeling of gratitude that’s lived in his chest ever since and Luke’s never been able to shake the sneaking suspicion that Ashton might have saved his life.

He stares at the television screen but doesn’t really see it. The thread of the show has been lost and his thoughts are far off in the past as he strokes Petunia’s short fur mindlessly. A lot of progress has been made since everything fell apart, but there are still times when the creeping tendrils of darkness snake through his mind. Objectively, he knows it’s the exhaustion making him susceptible, but that doesn’t help to combat it.

Eventually, Ashton stumps in and plops down on the couch, making only one rude comment about Luke’s underwear, for which he’s immediately flipped off. From there, they mostly sit and snark about the show, which is still playing, and drink some of the beer Ashton’s brought with him. It’s not much, just enough to loosen them up. That and abusing the show manages to lift Luke’s spirits a bit. After a while, they’re giggling tiredly, slumped together. Sometimes not being alone is really the only thing he needs to bring him back. For his part, the drummer seems to be in a better mindset as well.

Ashton snickers softly at one of Luke’s mocking comments and sighs, taking a sip of beer. “You figure out anything more?”

The question takes Luke a bit by surprised and he rolls his head along the back of the sofa to gaze questioningly at the other boy, brows furrowed. “More about what?”

“Your secret stalker-slash-admirer,” Ashton explains, waving his beer bottle slightly for emphasis.

“Oh.” Luke’s face falls into a mask of concentration again. “Not really? I mean we’ve only been home a few hours and nothing’s changed since I got the other ones.”

“Yeah, but no thoughts on who it could be?”

The blonde shakes his head slowly, still contemplating. There are frustratingly few clues to the riddle of his mysterious flowers and his curiosity burns like a fire. “Nah, not yet. ‘S not you, is it?” he giggles, only half teasing. Even if it were, he wouldn’t hold out any hopes of Ashton owning up to it. True to his expectations, Ashton barks a laugh at the query.

“Not me, no,” he confirms. “No offense, but I don’t even really buy flowers for women. I’m not buying them for you,” he jokes, “too expensive when I know you’d just kill them anyway.”

Slapping at the red-head’s arm, Luke sighs and chuckles a bit. “You’re such an asshole. I killed the first ones on accident and the second ones were, like, herbs. What was I supposed to even do with those? I googled it and they’re supposed to be really bitter.”

“What were they again?” Ashton laughs.

“Horehound.”

“That’s right. Well, maybe the next ones will be flowers again and you’ll actually remember to water them.”

“Dick,” Luke grunts. The chirping doesn’t really bother him. In fact, it feels comfortable – comfort _ing_. Yeah, he’s not the best with plants, he knows it. He’d gotten a couple indoor ones when he first bought the place, but he kept forgetting to water them. Needless to say, they didn’t last too long. “Just wish I knew who it is,” he groans after a moment.

“We’ll figure it out,” Ashton pats his knee reassuringly with a heavy palm. “’S like you said though – gotta be someone you know well, someone with us a lot on the tour at least. Means I know ‘em, too.”

Humming thoughtfully, Luke reaches over and cards his fingers through Ashton’s curls where his head’s resting on the guitarist’s shoulder. It’s a point he hadn’t really stopped to consider before, but Ashton’s right. If Luke knows the person and they’re around often enough to notice private things about him, that means Cal, Michael and Ash must know them, too.

“You hoping it’s someone?” Ashton asks softly after Luke fails to respond for a few minutes.

His eyes are open and curious when Luke chances a glance down. It’s one of his favorite things about Ashton. He’s so open-minded and nonjudgmental. Luke can still remember being a kid. Still in his teens and confessing that he sometimes liked boys as much as girls, his face buried in the comforter of Ashton’s bed at the London house. Telling him first had given him the courage and support to tell the other two, but it all started exactly where he is now: with Ashton.

“Not really,” Luke confesses after a moment. “Sometimes I feel like I could, you know, start again? Other days I feel like I’ve just woken up and it’s the day after I left her,” he explains cautiously. “I want to move on, but it fucked me up. A lot. It’s hard to think about myself with someone else.” Against his shoulder, he feels the drag of Ashton’s stubbly cheek catching on his shirt as he nods in understanding.

“Gotta sort yourself out first, but I don’t think you should discount the idea of it,” he offers quietly. “The right person comes along, they’ll be willing to help you with that and still love you.”

And just like that, Luke rewinds to the previous night, seated on the plane next to the older boy. Just as he had then, he nods and diverts his gaze, his words echoing the past. “Yeah, okay.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are more flowers, Luke has breakfast with the boys, and Ashton spills the beans.

The rest of the night passes peacefully, both of them in that bleary fog of too awake to be asleep and too exhausted to function. Once it’s reached a more acceptable hour, Ashton borrows a hoodie that doesn’t smell stale and lived in, and they head out for breakfast. The third flower is waiting for them, right there on the doorstep in a small vase. One, a tall and thin cutting with multiple blue colored blooms, the other, a violent purple that’s really quite pretty. Ashton stops dead in his tracks and Luke slams into him ungracefully, the breath knocked from his lungs.

“Look,” the drummer points, impatiently.

Peering around him, Luke spots the source of their hold up. A quick but vicious battle ensues over who will get to read the card. Ashton ultimately ends up with it clutched victoriously to his chest, crowing loudly and holding it up.

“Blue Salvia and Morning Glory,” he reads out, digging his phone from his pocket and pulling the webpage up in his browser. “Means _I think of you_ and _affection_. Man, if I didn’t trust everyone we work closely with, I’d be a little freaked out you’ve got a stalker. Obviously they’re hitting on you and letting you know they think of you.”

Floridly blushing, Luke pushes past the shorter man, bending to snatch up the vase and marching huffily back into the kitchen to place it on the counter with the card he plucks from Ashton’s fingers. 

“It’s kind of romantic in a really awkward and weird way,” he tries again when Luke reappears still looking embarrassed and sour. “At least someone’s interested. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” he assures soothingly, guiding the blonde to the car parked in the drive and sliding himself into the driver’s side.

As much as he jokes about it, Luke can see the worried set to his lips.

*

Breakfast might be one of Luke’s absolute favorite parts of the day, even though he hates mornings with a burning passion. Passing over the way it seems to taste best when he’s first woken up, he stirs more cream into his cup and thinks he’d eat breakfast for dinner if he ever remembered to. The first sip of coffee warms him from the inside and he sighs, watching his warm breath stir the wisps of steam as they rise feeling better by the moment.

Ashton huffs a chuckle. “Is there even any coffee in there? It’s paler than Michael’s profile picture when he first inboxed me.”

Snorting, Luke brushes the mug aside and rolls his eyes. “We can’t all be bitter and drink it black, asshole.”

“Can’t have good taste, you mean.”

“Bitch,” Luke tosses out after Ashton’s smug grin. “Cal and Mike say if they’re showing?”

Brow wrinkling, Ashton checks his phone. “They’ve both said they’re on their way. Which means,” he pauses, peeking up at Luke, eyes sparkling, “that Calum’s probably just rolled out of bed, and Michael’s probably nearly here.”

Snorting, the blonde rolls his eyes. “You’re not wrong. Our little Cliffo has grown so much, he’s nearly on time these days. Maybe if we find someone for Calum, he’ll start showing up when he’s supposed to.”

“Fat chance, Lucas,” a third voice chimes before Ashton has a chance to deliver his witty response, “I appreciate you taking notice of how fantastic I am though.” Michael slides into the booth and slings an arm around Luke’s neck, forcing a small ‘oof’ out of him, his other hand snagging Luke’s coffee and slugging back half of it in a long gulp. “Ugh,” he makes a face, features scrunching in disgust. “That’s pure sugar. How do you drink that shit?”

“Get your own,” Luke grumbles, stealing it back and leaning to hover over it with a protective posture, “and I never said you were fantastic, just a little more on time.”

“That’s alright,” the guitarist smirks, slinging an arm along the back of the booth and settling in. “I knew what you meant, you didn’t have to say it. I know you’re trying to keep your giant crush on the D-L, but this is a safe space,” he teases.

Luke practically hisses at him and Michael actually recoils a little, looking to Ashton confusedly.

“We found more flowers on the front step this morning,” the drummer obliges, “and we looked them up. Someone’s basically got a ‘giant crush,’ in your words, on Luke. Spending a lot of time thinking about him, eh Luke?” the oldest supplies unhelpfully.

Michael splutters beside him and Luke kicks him in the shin, glaring at him so forcefully that Ashton yelps and recoils a bit, but the damage has already been done. Michael’s gaze flickers between the two of them rapidly, taking in the silent exchange.

“Flowers?” he ventures when he seems to deem it safe enough to prompt.

Luke could fucking kill him. Staring stonily ahead, he gestures stiffly for Ashton to explain since the idiot’d let the secret out in the first place. It was supposed to stay quiet, that’s why he went to Ashton. Maybe he should have mentioned the fact that he didn’t tell anyone else but, again, too late now.

“Someone’s been leaving them for him,” Ashton starts hesitantly, clearly still wary of incurring the blonde’s wrath. “There’s always this little card with the flower names and the webpage to look them up. The ones we found this morning meant ‘affection’ and ‘thinking of you’.”

Michael’s chuckle is short and a little forced. “I mean it’s a little funny,” he leads off, and Luke frowns, “but, I dunno, it’s a little scary that they know where you live, isn’t it?”

Ashton pulls a face, he and Luke sharing a meaningful look. “We’ve talked about it. It seems harmless, but showing up to your house is a little bit of a barrier crossed, isn’t it? I mean, if we knew who it was, it might make more sense?”

Nodding slightly and still frowning, Luke swirls his coffee a bit. “Objectively, it could be creepy, but all the evidence says it’s someone really close to me. Someone who would know where I live already. I mean –” he swigs what’s left in the cup and pushes it aside to be refilled when their waitress comes by. “I feel like it’s someone I’m friends with, who’s been to my house, wouldn’t think about it being weird to leave them there.”

Making a considering head motion, like he’s debating the two sides, Michael wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I guess I see your point. I’m just gonna say that if it gets any worse, we should report it. If you find one anywhere more personal than your front step. Promise,” he demands seriously.

Luke’s a little taken aback by the protective note in Michael’s voice and it takes him a moment to get the words of acknowledgement out.

By the time Calum does show up, the tense moment is out of mind and they’ve gone through three carafes of coffee waiting on him. They waste no time, snatching up menus and joyfully abusing Calum’s general _everything_ jokingly as they order. The rest of breakfast passes in a blur. When Ashton leaves him at his front door, it’s with a full belly and a satisfied air.

Slouching inside, he kicks off his boots and collapses onto the sofa, head resting back, sighing tiredly. He knows he can’t sleep yet, but it’s really fucking difficult not to. He’s just exhausted.

It’s an easy thing, sitting there tired and listless, to pop his pants open, allow his fingers to slide in, massage the base of his cock. A shuddery little breath follows the action and Luke sinks further into the cushions. It’s been a long time since he’s had anything other than his fist, but it’s still a welcome relief.

Hips bucking up slightly, he removes his hand, pushing his pants further down, kicking them off and allowing his thighs to fall open obscenely. Palm wrapping around the growing shaft, he moans quietly in the empty space. It doesn’t take long for him to reach full hardness, stiff in his own grip.

Breath coming faster, his free hand reaches down to his balls, gripping and tugging just barely. The way it reaches up into his stomach, causes the muscles there to tighten – he whines high in his throat, stroking faster. The friction is a little rough, but the beads of moisture beginning to ooze from the tip slick the way well enough.

Eyes slipping closed, he allows his hips to grind up, rutting into his fist in sharp movements. Lip sliding between his teeth, he groans. He can’t help craving something more. There are aches a little deeper inside him, one easier to fill than the other. Luke’s always enjoyed having something inside of him during sex, but his chest feels empty, lonely. He can’t really bring himself to use his fingers, not right now in the bright daylight. That’ll be something he caves to at night, when it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t feel so broken afterward.

Grip tightening, pace increasing, his eyes slit open and he catches sight of the vase on his kitchen counter. He grunts, shudders, and comes messily over his fist and the hem of his t-shirt, still staring at them.  


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cake hangout and maybe there are more flowers. Luke's kind of starting to depend on them.

Two weeks pass.

Two very long, very busy, very lonely weeks.  

Luke’s a little ashamed at the way his mood seems to decline with the absence of anymore flowers. As concerning and strange as it’d been, he kind of enjoyed knowing there’s someone out there who wants him and thinks him important enough to expend the time an energy of the flower ruse on. Now that they’ve stopped coming, it feels a bit like he’s been discarded and forgotten.

Only a few days ago the Blue Salvia and Morning Glory finally wilted beyond keeping, and he’d gotten rid of them. It was a strangely somber affair. The empty vase is still sitting on the kitchen counter with a shameful air of hopefulness.

Calling out to Petunia lowly, Luke digs out her leash. Maybe taking her for a walk will clear his mind a bit, help him get his shit under control. If nothing else, it will at least get her some exercise. Petunia loves walks, even though she gets tired pretty quickly. It’s not going to hurt for him to get some exercise either, he supposes. He’s been a bit lax with his routine lately, and he groans thinking about how he really needs to kick it back up.

Clipping the lead to her collar, they stroll down the sidewalk together. Her tongue lolls as she pants ecstatically, and the sunshine flashes off Luke’s shades as he turns his face up, soaking up the heat and Vitamin D. It really does lift his mood a bit.

As they go, he ponders, thoughts drifting to how he’d found something of _hers_ mixed into a box the other day, and he’d felt… ambivalent. Yes, it brought a bite of sadness, but a fleeting one. He thinks of how he’d thrown the item out after only a moment’s hesitation. It feels like – like something close to healing. A month before it might have broken him, had him reaching for a drink just so he’d have something to blame when he wound up calling her later.

A small smile curls over him and he snags his mobile from his back pocket, thumbing open a text to Ashton and sharing the revelation without a second thought. The response he gets is quick, the words leaving a warm feeling in his chest.  Almost immediately, it’s followed by a silly selfie from the drummer and Luke cackles, snapping a shot of himself and then Petunia to send in return.

Calum’s waiting on the front step when they get back half an hour later and Luke sticks his tongue out. “What’s this fucking neighborhood coming to if they’re letting riffraff like this sit on my front porch?”

Flipping him off and making a rude, mocking face, Calum stands. “I want lunch,” he announces, as if it’ll mean something.

Luke scoffs at him, rolling his eyes. “Ah, now I understand how you ended up here. I hear this place just got a Michelin Star,” he replies, sarcasm thick and heavy.

“Dick,” Calum shrugs off easily. “Take me to lunch, Lucas, your treat,” he demands dramatically, standing and brushing off the back of his black jeans.

Staring at him incredulously for a moment, he brushes past the bassist and opens the door, ushering Petunia inside and unclipping her. She waddles quickly toward her water dish and Luke turns to face Calum who, without invitation had followed him. “Why the fuck would _I_ buy _you_ lunch when you’re the one who showed up here? I’m not even hungry!”

Waving off the question, the bassist rolls his eyes. “Liar. You’re always hungry.”

Frowning, Luke sighs and concedes the point. “Fine. I’ll drive, but I’m not paying. You can buy your own lunch.”

Shrugging again, Calum seems to accept the compromise without a word. Petunia has water, her dish even has a bit of kibble left from breakfast, and she’s just gone potty on their walk. Turning on the TV for her, Luke leads the way outside, locking the door and demanding Calum’s keys. “Come on then,” he laughs, “you didn’t think I was wasting my gas, did you?”

Calum grumbles but tosses the keys anyway, climbing into the car grudgingly as Luke smirks. Traffic is not on his list of favorite things, but so long as it’s not his fuel tank being drained, he honestly doesn’t mind blasting music and singing at the top of his voice, maybe dancing a little if they’re in standstill.

They bicker about where to eat as they go. Luke demands something light, Calum groans loud and obnoxious next to him. “Come on, seriously?”

“Yes,” Luke sticks his tongue out. “I need to get back into training. I’ve been eating like shit lately.”

“Then what’s one more meal?”

Rolling his eyes, Luke reaches over, flicking the bassist on the nose. He smirks at the surprised yelp he gets in return.  

In the end, they end up at a funky sandwich shop neither of them has tried before and Luke forces himself to behave, ordering something halfway decent as opposed to the gooey monstrosity Calum’s glorying in across from him. Luke scowls at him and Calum smirks, a string of cheese snapping and slapping onto his chin. Taking a bite of his own (mostly veggie) sandwich, Luke hates him just a little bit more. He ends up stealing the other’s bag of chips though, so he supposes it evens out.

Being outside and just focusing on something other than his own problems and moping, it feels nice and Luke’s not ready to go home when they’re finished eating. Somehow, they end up turning it into a beach day with Michael, Crystal and the dogs. It’s the most fun Luke’s had in ages. Returning home with Calum, he’s pleasantly exhausted, cheeks and nose a light pink from the sun. It’s not even all that late when he pulls into the driveway and gets out. He checks his watch as Calum backs into the street; it’s a little past four.

From the moment his key slides into the lock, he can hear Petunia scurrying to meet him at the door, her nails skittering loudly on the other side. She’s probably the best decision he’s ever made. It feels nice to know that kind of unconditional love again. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed Molly until he held Piggy for the first time. As he steps inside, he sinks onto the tile to greet her, stroking her ears and cooing at her. “Want to get some water and sit outside? Huh?”

LA in the late afternoon and early evening is beautiful. In Luke’s opinion, it’s one of the best times to be outside and he takes advantage of it whenever possible. It’s beautiful enough that he even feeds her outside, the two of them lounging in the fading light. Sometime a couple hours later, the doorbell rings, startling him out of a light doze. He hadn’t even realized he was getting sleepy.

Snuffling and rubbing his eyes, he sits up, wondering who the hell could be ringing his doorbell. The peephole gives him a view of a guy in a uniform. A uniform for a flower delivery company. Luke yanks the door open in a rush, suddenly wide awake.

The card is different this time, printed on cardstock with the flower company’s logo, but otherwise the same: flower name, website. This time, it’s several red Tulips and a single Iris. Luke checks the webpage. _Passion, declaration of love_ and _a message._ This one’s meaning is fairly straightforward, Luke thinks.

Heart hammering in his chest, he calls the number for the flower company, intending to inquire as to who had sent them. He gets no answer. The order was paid in cash, no name or contact number was given for the order. Luke’s still exactly where he started. He takes the flowers to the kitchen, putting them in a nice vase and mixing in the little packet of nutrients included by the company.

Staring at them provides him no insight and he sighs, half in frustration and half in happiness. It’s difficult to admit, but he’s starting to feel an attachment to the person sending them. It really is romantic, and he can’t help feeling a buoyed sense of worth knowing someone close to him cares about him this much. _Loves him_ , he mentally supplies. That’s what it is after all. The iris and red tulips make it clear once and for all.

For some reason, when he comes back to himself, the first thing he can think to do is to call Ashton. The other man sounds bright and happy as he answers, the hint of a laugh still in his voice.

“I got more flowers,” Luke blurts. “They were delivered by a company.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” Luke huffs, expecting some kind of response other than just that single, demanding word.

“What are they, what do they mean?” Ashton elaborates, sounding long-suffering. “Whatever, I’m coming over. I’ll bring drinks,” he promises, hanging up in Luke’s ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts/ideas!!


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